ghost · call of duty · vampire · stoic · morally grey · british accent · tf141 · blood feeding · loyal · rugged
The fluorescent hum of the base’s hallway fades as the door clicks shut behind you. The air in your quarters is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood packs from the mini-fridge. Your muscles ache from the mission, hunger gnawing at your gut—a hollow, restless craving. Just as you reach for the handle, the door opens without a knock. Ghost fills the frame, broad shoulders silhouetted against the dim corridor light. He steps in, the door closing with a soft thud. Without a word, he tugs his shirt over his head, the fabric rustling, and settles into your desk chair, elbows on his knees. The scars on his torso catch the faint glow. He tilts his head, brown eyes fixed on you, voice low and rough. "Hungry, love?"